


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: This piece was part of a song meme challenge that involved setting my iPod to shuffle and writing short pieces inspired by each song this was inspired by “You Can Leave Your Hat On” by Randy Newman
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Spock
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	You Can Leave Your Hat On

This piece was part of a song meme challenge that involved setting my iPod to shuffle and writing short pieces inspired by each song this was inspired by “You Can Leave Your Hat On” by Randy Newman

"I believe it would facilitate matters if you were to remove your clothing and lie down"

Christine struggled to maintain her already tenuous composure as she turned to face Spock. "Aren't you at least going to buy me a drink first?" she responded hoping to insert a note of levity to break the tension of the situation.

The ubiquitous raised eyebrow and impatient look on the Vulcan's face told Christine that her attempt at humor had fallen flat. "It was a joke," she responded hoping to at least see the eyebrow lowered to half-mast.

"I fail to understand…"

"Look," she interrupted, "we don't have to do this. I know Leonard goaded you into it so let's just forget it."

"I assure you that Doctor McCoy had nothing to do with any of this. Now please, disrobe and lie down so we may begin."

"Okay," she agreed against her better judgment, feigning a light, breezy tone. Why on earth had she agreed to this?

"Where?" she asked surveying the Vulcan's richly appointed quarters anxiously.

He gestured to a grouping of large floor pillows in the dim corner near the fire pot. As she approached the pillows she could see that they were opulently upholstered with an elegant silky looking damask fabric. Six unlit candles bordered the pillows. She looked back to find him watching her through the flickering light from the firepot. She was thankful for the dim lighting of the First Officer's quarters, as she felt quite certain she was blushing. She made a flat circular gesture with her right index finger; he nodded his understanding and turned his back to her.

As she started to unfasten her tunic she heard him clear his throat,

"There is a coverlet next to the pillows if you are cold."

"Thanks," she responded, wondering if he really thought there was a snowball's chance on Vulcan she might be cold. The cabin temperature, set to Vulcan normal, reminded her of a sauna. "Have you done this before?" she asked trying to keep the apprehension she was feeling from her voice.

"Yes," he answered, his tone sounded annoyed, or at least as annoyed for a Vulcan. "Is that what is worrying you?"

"Well," she hesitated, "have you done it with a human?" she stood for a moment naked in the dancing light and realized that he had removed his shirt and was clad solely in a pair of soft, dark colored drawstring pants, even in the semi darkness they left little to the imagination.

"I have done this with the Captain quite a few times," he replied as he carefully folded his shirt and placed it on the chair next to his desk. "I can assure you I am not a novice."

Slowly, she lowered herself to the pillows and luxuriated in the sensual feel of the Vulcan fabric against her bare skin.

"May I turn around?" he asked, and Christine was almost certain she'd heard amusement in his voice. "Just a moment," she scrambled to find the coverlet which she discovered to her dismay was little more than a thin sheet of fabric. "Okay."

He moved toward her in silence; his bare feet making no sound of the soft carpeting. Slowly he lit the candles that bracketed the makeshift bed, and she heard him whisper a soft unintelligible incantation, which she presumed to be in his native language, as each candle caught the flame. "Roll over,” he said softly. Grasping the thin coverlet to her body, she gingerly maneuvered herself so that she was lying on her stomach. "You must breathe," he whispered, and now she was certain that he sounded amused.

In a single lithe motion he seated himself, cross-legged, beside her. He spoke again in the unfamiliar tongue and she was aware of a sweet fragrance that had begun to permeate the room. She heard him rub his hands together briefly and then, slick with a light oily substance they made contact with the nape of her neck. For the barest of moments she experienced an illogical feeling of panic. I hope he knows I'm not a virgin, she thought to herself, realizing that she knew even less about Vulcan religious practices that she did about Vulcan sexual practices. What if this is all a clever ruse to sacrifice me to some ancient Vulcan god? She moaned slightly as his hands, so incredibly gentle, moved down her neck to her shoulders, and she experienced a most exquisite pleasure that gently spread itself throughout her body.

 _"You are not a virgin? I am shocked, Doctor Chapel."_ It was Spock's voice, but coming from inside of her mind.

"What?" Christine tensed, "how did you do that?"

"Shhhh. When I am touching you I can read your thoughts." He moved his fingers from her neck to her shoulders again and eliciting another pleasured moan. "Are you still feeling pain?" he asked softly.

"No," she replied sounding amazed. For the first time in over a week she was totally free of pain. "Thank you. I'm sorry for doubting you. There isn't much in the literature about Vulcan Neuropressure"

"There is no offense where no offense is taken."

"So, "she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "You do this with the Captain?"

"Yes, well not precisely like this" his voice seemed suddenly smoother deeper. His hands, she realized were now underneath the thin sheet, moving on a decidedly southern route.

"What do you mean not precisely like this?" she asked as she abruptly sat up and pulled the sheet hastily around herself. It must have been a trick of the unusual lighting conditions because she was certain that she'd seen a faint smile-and Vulcan's just didn't smile.

"Well," he cocked his head to the side and stared at her with an expression that made her stomach do a flip flop. "We use one of the biobeds in Sickbay." Then he leaned closer much closer, his lips grazing the delicate curve of her ear. His voice became a low jagged whisper, "and he leaves his clothes on."


End file.
